the sad axe

Friday, September 3, 2010

ahhhhh - more beautiful sweet peas (don't say I didn't warn you)

fear & loss
or should I say fear of loss
loss of love, comfort, security ... mostly love

There is a part of me, of my psyche, a part of who I am that I've been trying, desperately at times, to kick to the curb and that's my predilection to continually be waiting for the sad axe to fall. The sad thing, the one biggy I've been predicting my whole life, the one I've been waiting and watching for as long as I can remember. Since childhood. Text books & pop psychology refer to this kind of anxiety & worry as hypervigilance, a sick twisted version of the girl guide motto be prepared. Be prepared to be knocked to the ground, get ready to be devastated, to be so sad as a result of this next and perhaps final sad axe falling that this time you will surely die of the sadness - it will hurt that bad. It's hard work this vigilance, and at the worst of times it makes me feel sick and anxious. The feelings, and reasons for feelings, become tangled and muddled they all meld together into a kind of constant, quiet hum of dread. I've described the feeling to be much like your going to go onstage - in 4 hours. Not that intense just about to go on stage but something much more subtle, a feeling that catches you in your stomach or at the back of your throat and whispers be careful ... something ... I can't be sure exactly what something, but some thing is just not right. Much of the time I'm not really even sure what I'm anxious about ... but I might as well keep up the guard because that something bad/sad could happen ... at any moment. I've convinced myself that it's best to prepare.

The particular sad axe I've been focusing on lately is Miss D. I see that sad axe up there, hanging by an old worn and fraying thread. I've never said goodbye to an only dog, I've always had another dog home waiting who needs me, who walks with me, who comforts me and loves me. We've agreed for financial reasons to wait until we can at least see my ship, coming in, on the horizon before we adopt another dog. I don't think the cowboy quite understands although he's loved many a dog, I think he believes he can protect me. I worry that his love might not be enough, I'm not sure he can shield me from this sad axe.

Daily I worry and wonder about sweet Winnie. I watch her like a hawk. She'll be 12 in January, when a dog reaches her senior age, every day with them is cake & icing. Every little misstep makes you wonder if the end might be near. I'm living that. The silver lining, I suppose, to this intensely watchful guard is that I'm constantly treasuring her, loving her, never taking for granted even a moment that she's here with me, beside me. She always is, by my side ... I lay my head against hers often, I listen to her breath, I smell the smell that is only her and I tell her I love her over and over and over again.

Every day I wonder can I live through the sadness of saying goodbye to her and I know in my brain that I won't die of sadness but this fragile heart creeps in and stops my brain from knowing all it thinks it can do is to feel.

that darn grinning, sweet as can be, Missy Dee D D

As soon as forever is through,
I'll be over you


stems in water especially for Rachel


  1. Miss Winnie is such a sweet lady! Our dog is 13 and I know the feeling you describe. Such a sad, sad feeling.

  2. I swear Mary D there is no love as big as dog love. My secret is I'm trying to switch my focus as much as possible away from me (poor me how will I live without her) to focus all that big love back at her, honouring her life, her unavoidable demise, her incredible contribution to me and our life.

    She's living joyfully in the moment ... I must learn to live there with her.

    Thanks Mary D, much love from Missy D & me

  3. My Riley is 14 this month. Every day is a bonus and a blessing. I watch him carefully and am happy to see him still running up the bush road with his friend Missy in the mornings. But, he is often frightened when people can sneak up on him and even get to our door before he hears them.

    That big bad axe can be so pervasive, leaking into every part of your existence. I can so relate to that anxiousness.

    Following your new design work with interest. Really love the tableware.

  4. Yes, I know that feeling, too. The only way to deal with it is to acknowledge that it's always there, but to refuse to follow it when it pops up and beckons us along that dismal road - what would be the point? You're right to switch your focus - that change of emphasis to what is wonderful NOW is a much healthier and happier way to live alongside your loved ones, who have much to teach us about not worrying about things we can't change.

  5. My cat Winnie, an orange shorthair, "Winston", passed away five weeks ago at the ripe old age of 18 and a half years. So sweet we celebrated his birthday on Valentine's Day. Winnie went where I went, and he taught me a lot about love and forgiveness. I miss his constant companionship, his smell, and his loud voice, he was the family spokescat.

    I worried about losing him since he was three years old. Several years ago, a "wise guide" told me, "all you can do is love him." When I started to worry, I remembered that, and eventually I stopped worrying, or worried much less.

  6. I'm so sorry for your loss John and I can so relate to you beginning your fret when your Winnie was only 3. I remember distinctly the day I looked at my recently adopted red retriever Jake, who was around 2 at the time and I thought to myself " Oh, Oh ... I'm in trouble 'cause you've stolen my heart, you big lug of sweetness". And he did, steal it, and in the best most wonderful way - that's what they do isn't it ?

    Thank you for your comment and I hope these days are not too sad for you & yours
    xo S, Miss D & les Chats

  7. kisses to dear Riley blueheron from both Winnie & me

  8. and then like us you eventually get too old to even get a new pet although you both dearly would love another dog. The likelyhood is that he will outlive us and who will take him when we're gone. Even our children and the gkids are inappropriate as they couldn't begin to give our pet the kind of 24-7 life that we do.
    Our furkid Pavel is going to be 15 this month and we think we'll be able to see him through his life. Then theres really going to be a big empty spot and a very cold, quiet and lonely house. Forever.
    I guess we all knew this would happen, right from day 1. Sadly but thankfully we always outlive our pets.

  9. You know I've had a week chock full o'stress. Last night putting the old noggin' to sleep was not so easy, trying to find a way through the goo I was dealing with. Finally got to sleep and guess who was there with kisses on my face? That's right the Beardog. It's been the only series of dreams where I question whether I'm dreaming or if it's really her. In my mind, the determining factor is always getting her to "sing" with me. What sweet wolf howls we make. I miss that sweet girl with my dog loving heart. I don't know nothing about life after death but I do know that my brain provides the most excellent home movies when I most need them. That crab tolling dog of yours will too. Believe.

  10. Lorraina could you and your husband adopt a senior dog perhaps, they often have a hard time finding a new home.

    Shammy of course she will ... provide me with lots of home movies. She's the best...kooky, silly, loyal, loving, sweet as can be - Miss Darn Winnie D.

  11. One can never have tooo many fur friends, nor can you ever give too many pets each and every day. Words from a wise Golden Retriever...
    Tail Wags,

  12. I'm still figuring out how to dance on that tightrope without falling off.

  13. I know this feeling well. I grew up with it in my pocket at all times. I know until I started the regime of anti-depressants 26 years ago, half my life ago, it never went away. I have to say when I turned 50 it all began to fall into place for me. I am 53 now and somehow that feeling is not even remotely at my heels or daring to jump into my pocket. Hyper vigilance. Very real. Very scary.

  14. Thanks Susan. We've considered a senior dog but we are so rung dry from pets dying on us.
    Mostly tho, we disagree on what kind of dog....i'd choose the biggest, saddest, neediest one while hubby wants a cute little lap dog.


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